


snow-blind

by Crollalanza



Series: Advent Winter Challenge [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Spoilers for manga, compliant with final arc, omg they were roommates!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: When Futakuchi Kenji and Nametsu Mai drive to Sapporo to cover a volleyball tournament in March, Kenji assumes the sudden snowstorm will be the worst of their problems. But he hasn't counted on the unexpected appearance of Jackals' Setter Miya Atsumu, causing chaos as he skids along the ice-bound roads in his flash red car.And then his problems multiply when Atsumu charges into their fully-booked hotel demanding a room ...
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Miya Atsumu
Series: Advent Winter Challenge [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565479
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47
Collections: Haikyuu Cold and Cozy Bingo





	snow-blind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nautilics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilics/gifts).



> This fic was written for the HQ Cozy Winter Bingo on twitter set up by MellieJellie. I was prompted by Mandy to write 'Snowed in' and Miya (Atsumu)/Futakuchi.

The snow had begun to fall when they started driving and hadn’t let up for an hour. It wasn’t heavy, just persistent, but then heading to Sapporo in March, the weather was always a tossup. From the passenger seat, Kenji watched the flakes circling the air and spiralling down to splat on the windscreen, and huddled further into his fleece lined coat. The wiper squeaked across the grass, giving his driver as clear a view as possible, but she was huffing a little as they approached a fork in the road and peering over the steering wheel to check the signpost.

“Left?” Mai asked.

Not that she needed an answer, Kenji thought, but he assented anyway. “Do you want me to take over?” he offered again.

“Nope, I’m fine,” she muttered, steering up the smaller road.

The engine stuttered, back wheels slipping as they hit a patch of ice, but Mai held firm, her face a study in concentration as she regained control.

“Nicely done,” Kenji muttered.

“If you want to show your gratitude…” she said, casting him a look under her lashes.

“No way.” He leant back and stretched out his legs. “I had the couch in the last place, and my back is still hurting. We flipped a coin.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“At least you have a room,” he continued, refusing to feel the slightest bit guilty, “and I did offer to drive.”

“We’d end up in a ditch with you at the wheel,” she grumbled.

The sky grew darker, another flurry of snow not just swirling but dumping down on them, and so Kenji stopped talking, knowing it might put Mai off, and kept his eyes on the road ahead.

“Jeez, this weather,” she said, more to herself than Kenji. “Why the heck are we here again?”

“To watch dumbasses playing volleyball,” he chimed, giving the standard answer.

“And giving our own take on it,” she added, but her smile remained grim. “They better not cancel the tournament.”

“They won’t. They’ll have been bussed in or taken the Shinkansen.” He stared at the road and a tiny patch of light in the distance, closing in on them rather too quick for comfort. “Car!”

“Yup, I have eyes,” she snapped, then shook her head. “Sorry … Jeez! What speed is that idiot doing?”

“It’s in a skid!” Kenji cried as Mai pulled over to the verge.

The car, red and flashy, swerved around them, the driver tooting the horn and gesticulating rudely as he drove past.

“ASSHOLE!” Mai yelled.

“Whoaaaa! Did you see who that was?” Kenji asked looking back over his shoulder as the red car carried on down the hill.

“No, I was paying attention to us not getting killed,” Mai retorted. She took a breath and started up the car again. “Who was it?”

“Tsum-Tsum,” Kenji laughed.

“Miya Atsumu?” Mai blinked. “Really? Why would he be here?”

Kenji shrugged. “How the hell would I know? Gah, it’s so typical that the obnoxious git drives a car like that.”

“Calm down, Futa-chan,” Mai said, laughing. “What is it about Atsumu that gets you so riled?”

“Want a list?” he asked, then without giving her a chance to reply he began ticking off his reasons on his fingers. “He’s arrogant, obnoxious, loud and rude to not only us but the crowd, opposing teams _and_ his own teammates. The sort who’d dump anyone as soon as they’d served their purpose. And he’s a bad loser—”

“Really? I never thought that.” Mai interrupted her voice mild. “Yeah, he’s loud and arrogant and obnoxious, but … uh …”

“What?” He glared at her. “WHAT!”

“Oh look, we’re here!” she trilled, turning into a driveway. “Ahhhh, it looks nice.”

It did, he guessed. The hotel set on the outskirts of Sapporo looked like a large log cabin and with snow frosting the windows and blanketing the eaves.

“Looks like a chocolate box,” Kenji said sourly. “And what were you about to say about Atsumu?”

She parked up. “Only that loud, arrogant and obnoxious volleyball players aren’t unusual. And I don’t think he’s a bad loser. He doesn’t _like_ losing, and takes it to heart, but he doesn’t begrudge another team beating him fair and square.”

“Jeez, since when have you been such a fan?”

“I’m not particularly.” Unlocking her door, Mai flicked up the collar of her coat and pulled the hood over her hair. “I’ve met one or two players like him, that’s all.” She smirked. “Especially at high school.”

“Oh, very funny! I am not remotely like that dumbass!” he roared, slamming his door.

“Just grab the equipment, Futakuchi and I’ll take the cases in.”

He was still fuming as they approached the reception desk, and it must have shown on his face because the young girl let out a squeak when he leant across the desk. Smiling at her, Mai handled the check in, and then picked up her key with a thank you.

“And my room?” Kenji asked.

“Ah … sir, we have a small problem.”

“Do not tell me you’re double booked! I have confirmation!” he said through gritted teeth as he tried to keep a lid on his resurfacing bad temper.

“Oh, no, the room is booked for you, Futakuchi-san,” she assured him breathlessly. “But the previous occupant has only just checked out, so it’s not quite ready yet. You may leave your bags here and explore…” She glanced out of the window, taking in the heavier snow. “Or stay here and I’ll bring you a drink. Complimentary, of course.”

She had a sweet smile, and was so earnestly trying to do her best, that Kenji found himself responding with a sigh rather than a snarl. With Mai chuckling a goodbye, he settled himself into a rather plush armchair by a roaring fire and grinned at the picture he must present. _All I need now is slippers and a rug for my knees._

“We’ll be a quick as we can,” the receptionist assured him as she brought a tray, not only providing a pot of coffee but a small plate of biscuits too. “The last occupant paid for late check-out but even missed that. I think he overslept by the look of things.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” he said, feeling mellower now. “Some people are _so_ inconsiderate.” He paused and threw one of the biscuit wrappers at the fire, ‘tsk’ing when it missed. “Drive a red car, did he?”

She picked up the wrapper, placing it in the bin by the fire. “Um… yes, he did, actually, how did you know?”

“We passed him on the way up here. Driving like a maniac on these roads. It was hard keeping our car out of his way. Fortunately I managed to control the steering.”

“ _You_ did, did you?” Mai queried and sat in the other armchair. “Ooh, coffee, great.”

“I’ll fetch another cup,” the receptionist said and scurried off.

“How’s the room?” he asked, and stretched out his legs.

She scowled. “Small. I still think you used a fake coin.”

“Would I?”

Mai pulled a face, her best ‘I know you far too well, Futakuchi’ face but said nothing. Yet when the receptionist returned and she’d poured herself a cup of the strong black coffee, she sat back and relaxed.

“Nice to be out of the city,” she said. “We can breathe proper air for a change.”

“Yeah. Do you want to go through the schedule now?”

“Hell, no.” She closed her eyes. “Let me rest. We can shoot a segment tomorrow when the light’s good and go through links later.”

Feeling restless, Kenji pulled out his tablet to check on the players, grimacing as his connection flickered inconsistently. It was always going to be an issue, this high up and with the weather so bad, but he’d hoped they’d be moderately close enough to civilisation for him to finish this.

“What’s wrong?” Mai asked.

“Weak connection. Wanted to find out something about the new signings in case they play.”

She yawned. “I’m sure we’ll find something. Don’t stress.”

“We don’t even know who he is!”

She flapped her hand, dismissing him.

_But I like to have something,_ he thought. It was his brand, finding out something pointless and trivial to use in the commentary, whether it was a player’s favourite food or a nickname it was what made their style stick out from the others. A bit of shit-stirring amongst the expertise and affection they both genuinely held for the sport.

Unwrapping another biscuit, Kenji let his mind drift away from volleyball and to a song plaguing his brain, the dance beat thrumming until he began to tap it out—almost unconsciously—one the table.

“The concept of relaxation is lost on you, isn’t it?” Mai murmured.

“Sorry.” He stopped the beat. “I’m restless.”

“We’ll be busy enough soon,” she replied. “Why don’t you flick through a magazine or something until you can get to your room?”

“Hey, no, look, I just got some coverage,” he declared and turned his tablet towards her. “Gah, still no news on the starting line-ups.”

“Thought you liked flying by the seat of your pants.”

“Mmm. But—”

Just then, the door of the hotel flew open and sharp gust of air blasted towards them as a figure barrelled its way through and up to the desk. Covered in snow, they dropped a holdall on the floor and rang the reception bell agitatedly several times.

“Hey, you gotta help me,” Miya Atsumu cried. “My car’s stuck in a drift and the breakdown service can’t get to me until at least tomorrow. Please tell me my room’s still available.”

“Um… no. I’m so sorry Miya-san, but it had already been booked—”

“Something else, then? I can’t get the car going, and have to stay somewhere.”

She tapped at her keyboard. “Um … I’m so sorry, but we don’t have anything free. We’re fully booked.”

“You have nothing … nothing at all!” he yelped. “What am I going to do?”

“Well… um …” She craned her neck across the desk, catching Kenji’s eye and smiling a little helplessly. “The room is a twin, so I don’t know if … um … the gentleman who’s booked in would possibly sh—”

“Great idea!” Mai got to her feet. “Hey, Atsumu-kun, we thought it was you!”

“Oh good!” The receptionist beamed. “You know each other.”

“No, not possible!” Kenji yelped. “Sorry, but Mai and I have just swapped rooms and—”

“No, no, I’ll stay where I am,” Mai assured them, her voice dripping with honey.

“Thought you said your room was too small,” he retorted.

“Bijou, Futa-chan, bijou! And the view is to die for!”

“HIM?” Atsumu stared at them both, their appearance seemingly shocking him into monosyllabic utterances. “I. No. Not. Can’t. Uh …”

“Well, you heard it here first. He can’t!” Kenji said cheerfully. “Maybe there’s another hotel nearby.”

“There isn’t,” the receptionist beseeched.

“I can’t possibly—” he started to say, breaking off when he received a sharp kick to the ankle. “What was that for?”

“The latest Jackals’ trials? Maybe Miya will let something slip,” Mai hissed.

Oh … OH!

_Where was I?_

Kenji turned on a smile. “I can’t _possibly_ turn you out in the snow, Tsum-Tsum, so, yeah; sure, I don’t mind sharing.”

“UGH! This is a nightmare.”

“It’s either that or sleep in your car,” Kenji said walking towards him. “Come on, I’m sure we can end hostilities for one night, can’t we?”

“Um… the weather report …” the receptionist squeaked, hopping from foot to foot. She took a breath. “There’s more snow on the way, so it might well be longer than one night.”

“Crap!” they said in unison.

Mai laughed. “See, you have so much in common already!”

The room, when he got into it, was fortunately plenty big enough for the pair of them. Two wardrobes, an en-suite and a large window overlooking the snowbound grounds and fir trees cloaking the hotel. As Kenji took in the view, he heard Atsumu huffing as he dropped his bag on one of the beds.

“I’ll take this one.”

Kenji turned. “This is my room, Miya. I get first choice.”

“’Kay.” He moved his bag and dumped it on top of the bed in the corner.

“No, I want that one,” Kenji said and grinned.

“Really?” He threw dagger eyes, but reached out to take his bag.

_Be nice._

“Nah, not bothered.” Turning back to the window, Kenji watched the darkness encroach. “Any idea when sunrise is?”

“Nope. Late ish? I slept in. You’re not telling me you’re an up at the crack of dawn type of guy are you?”

He pressed his nose against the window. “We want to film tomorrow. I’m wondering about the light.”

“Film what?”

“Filler segments, mainly.” Hearing nothing, Kenji turned around. “For our show? You know we have a show, right?”

“I might.” Atsumu shrugged. “I don’t watch much.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“You might learn something.”

“From you?” he mocked. “A former High School player?”

“Nah, from Nametsu-san,” he said nastily. “She wants to do a segment on handling volleyball brats who throw tantrums.”

As soon as he said the words he ached to swallow them back. Atsumu set off in peals of laughter.

“She was _your_ manager!” he gasped. “Jeez, she must have been busy!”

With as much dignity as he could muster, Kenji began to unpack, throwing his socks into a drawer, and hanging up his shirts. There were eight hangers in the wardrobe and he commandeered them all, even hanging up his jogging bottoms, before sliding the door closed. And when he turned round, Atsumu was lying on his bed listening to music on his phone.

“I need to work!” Kenji snapped, opening up his laptop. “Don’t disturb me.”

“Ah, cool. I’ll shower then. Thought you might want to as you’ve been travelling all day,” Atsumu chirped and levered himself off his bed, pulling out a towel from his bag before sauntering into the shower.

Bastard! And the worst part of it was, he knew having sat in the car most of the day, he must stink to high heaven.

He was late joining Mai for dinner, but had barely breathed out his apology when he realised there was a third chair at their table. And it was occupied.

“Come on,” she said, taking one look at his face. “Where else is Miya-kun going to sit, and I’m going to pump him for news.”

“No, nope, not a chance.” As Atsumu mimed zipping his lips, Kenji prayed to every deity it was permanent, but his wishes were dashed the next moment. “You cannot get a single bit of info from me except that we’re all playing well and I’m exceptional.”

“And Bokuto?” Mai asked. “How’s he?”

“Also exceptional.”

“And how is he doing with Sakusa?”

Atsumu grinned. “Exc _ept_ ionally well.”

“Is it true he wears his face mask during training?”

He zipped his lips again, but there was a cheery glint in his eye when he chatted to Mai, and when he spoke he was a little more forthcoming about the team.

Grinding his teeth, Kenji studied the menu, glowering as he listened to the conversation. Mai was an excellent interviewer, often leading the participant into divulging secrets, but although Atsumu did drop a few nuggets that they could use, there was nothing about the recent trials (apart from an infuriating smirk).

“But enough about me,” Atsumu said when he’d been yakking for half an hour. “Tell me, Nametsu-kun, how did you get into this TV thing?”

“You mean commentating and our show?” she replied, and Kenji knew she’d softened her voice in an attempt to dull the sharpness his patronising tone had induced.

He nodded, and flashed a lopsided smile at her. “I know you and Futa-chan were at school together, right?”

“Mmm, I was manager and he was captain and ace of our volleyball team.”

“But how does that lead to television? There are so many volleyball players at school,” Atsumu replied.

He’d angled his body towards her, excluding Kenji with every word and action. (Not that Kenji cared. Not at all.)

“Love the sport, and had a great deal of fun managing. We kinda clicked, didn’t we, Kenji?”

Kenji was mid-sip of beer and almost choked when Atsumu span round on his seat, his eyes assessing. “You two are …. Uh …”

“We’re ‘uh’ alright,” Mai laughed. “No, we have a similar mindset, and like the same type of music.”

“Music?”

Very carefully, Kenji replaced his glass on the coaster, glancing across at Mai so she knew he wanted to answer. “I DJ’d as a sideline. Mai organised gigs for me.”

“Even got him a stint in Europe when I was working out there.”

“Europe?”

“Mmm, Spain.” Picking up his glass, Kenji took a sip. “Ever been there?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really? Why? You make it sound like an accusation. Or a defect that I’ve not—”

Mai frowned. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant. Have you travelled much, Miya-kun?”

“Too busy training and playing for holidays,” he muttered. “Why were you there, Nametsu-kun?”

“Had a college crisis, decided I wanted a break and ended up backpacking then working for a while.” She nodded in Kenji’s direction. “We sat down one day before he was due to fly home and talked about working together. Rest is history. Sort of.”

“Didn’t you ever want to play professionally?” Atsumu asked, for the first time that evening actually addressing him.

“He—”

“No,” Kenji interrupted, then licked his lips. “Well, obviously when I was a kid that was all I thought about—it’s what everyone thought about—but some of us grew up.”

Atsumu bristled, just as Kenji had hoped, and his accent lost the modulated tone he’d adapted since turning pro. “An’ some of us are too good. There are lots of aces and former captains knockin’ about who think they coulda made it, but they’re too freakin’ lazy or just don’t have the frickin’ will to succeed.”

Kenji smirked.“That so?”

“The other thing,” Mai said hastily, “is that being the age we are, and our background means we know some of the current players, or their former teammates, so we’re in a good position to get interviews and stories.”

“Yeah, Tsum-Tsum, there was no shortage of people wanting to dish the dirt on you,” Kenji replied.

“All in good fun,” Mai placated. “Hey, I’m going to order dessert. How about you two?”

“And ‘Tsum-Tsum’ is the best ya can do?” Atsumu snarled, stopping only when Mai shoved a menu under his nose. “Yeah, I might. That chocolate thing sounds nice.”

Kenji scraped his chair back “Not for me. Going to get on with some work.”

“Great! Gives us more time to talk,” Atsumu replied, turning back to Mai.

“Kenji!” Mai cried. “Come on, sit down.”

He paused, and fixed an idle smile on his face before turning back to her. “I’m going to grab a beer and get on with some work. You kids have fun,” he said and finger gunned them both. “I won’t wait up, Roomie!”

The WiFi connection had flickered back into life as the wind calmed, and sitting at the table in his room, Kenji set up his laptop and began to type up a few links, make some notes and hone his research.

They weren’t just here for the volleyball (a league two tournament but with a Jackals Exhibition match against Sapporo University at the end) but to talk about the preparations for the Olympic Games and the rumour that the marathon might switch to Sapporo.

_Wonder what Miya is doing here? The team haven’t arrived yet._

He searched for him, and soon a long list of articles, images and stories appeared about Atsumu. He clicked on a few of the recent ones, but nothing suggested an injury or a bust up with the team.

_Maybe it’s personal?_

But he’d heard nothing in that area either.

_Not that I’m remotely interested in the scrub_.

At ten-thirty, he called it a night and began to get ready for bed. He switched on the TV, flicking through channels to find a music channel and stretched out his back and legs, hearing a satisfactory crick as the muscles in his shoulders unknotted.

“Aerobics?”

He turned swiftly, scowling as he saw Atsumu standing in the doorway a smirk on his face.

“Stiff from being in the car all day,” he muttered, then peered closer. “Why are you looking so cheerful?”

“Dinner and drinks in the company of Nametsu-chan,” Atsumu said and sighed, clutching his chest. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“Seeing as Mai texted me to say she’d left you in the bar an hour ago, then I can only congratulate you on your imagination.” He swung his arms to the left, and feeling a small twinge, swung them the other way.

“You said you were workin’” he muttered gruffly. “Thought you’d ‘preciate me stayin’ outta your way.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks.”

“Did ya get it done?”

“Mm, most of it.” He lunged forwards, not for any particular medical benefit but because he felt it looked more exercisey, but Atsumu was clearly bored because he wandered off to the bathroom, and could soon be heard singing.

With him gone, Kenji lay down on the floor, twisted his legs to one side, his arms to the other and felt the stretch in his back. Then, as Atsumu was till ensconced, he performed a couple of sun salutations before standing up and rotating his hips. His routine complete, he sat propped up on his bed listened to one of his favourite songs and at last relaxed.

But of course it couldn’t last because Atsumu clattered out of the bathroom wearing only his boxers and a tee shirt and began to warble along. “I love this song!” he declared.

“Then why are you massacring it?” Kenji chucked the remote across to Atsumu. “I need to sleep. Please do not turn the sound up loud as I have to be up early to catch—”

“The light. Yeah, yeah, I get what a big deal you are, Futakuchi.”

“Hey, we can’t all be asshole volleyball players who think the sign of being a hot-shot is to drive a dick car.”

“What?”

“You heard. That flash car. You probably only bought it to drive up here and show off. Like, what made you even think you could get through snow in something like that?”

“What’s it got to do with you what I drive?”

“Everything, when you run me off the road.”

“I hit some ice. Anyway you’d already stopped, so what is the problem here?” He narrowed his eyes and then one side of his mouth quirked upwards. “I get it. You’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“The career, the car, the fame, and my immense good looks.”

“Your fame is based on being an obnoxious git and dying your hair!” Kenji retorted. “Oh, and having a twin hasn’t done you any harm either.” Pausing to take in breath, he relaunched the attack before Atsumu could interrupt. “It’s all image with you. Osamu was always the better player.”

But Atsumu didn’t respond, staring mutinously at the television before turning it off. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

“We’ve met,” Kenji replied, not adding that there was a sponsorship deal being talked about. “He’s decent… and fun. Not an asshole.”

Turning over so his back was towards Kenji, Atsumu pulled the blankets around him. “Screw you,” he spat.

The thought of having to talk and have breakfast with Atsumu kept Kenji from making a noise when he got up the following morning. Atsumu was snuffling a little, but his breaths were deep and even, so Kenji crept into the bathroom hurriedly pulled on his warmest clothes and grabbed the camera equipment.

“How’s your roomie?” Mai asked as they drank coffee.

“A dick.”

“Is he joining us?”

“Still snoring when I left him. Why are you so interested?”

She snorted. “I’m not. It’s just fun to see you so riled even when he’s not here. Come on, let’s go outside.”

“I’m not riled,” he said in what he hoped was a mild tone.

But she laughed, seeing through him immediately. “There is something about Miya Atsumu that really gets your goat. I don’t know what it is. My current theories range from you’re too similar and he reminds you of you—”

“Ha! I’m _not_ at all like him!”

“Or,” she continued, not the least put off, “that in a former life you were sworn enemies doing great harm to those around you and karma’s come to kick your butts, ‘cause he pretty much feels the same way about you.” Zipping up her coat, Mai stuffed her phone into her back pocket. “Time for work!”

He followed her into the snow covered grounds and started by setting up the tripod for the camera. Because this was for their YouTube channel, there was a certain freedom to how they filmed and the content they used, but they generally talked sport, threw in some current news and gossip, and goofed around. It was professional but with an amateurish wash, allowing the odd error to add to the good humour of their brand.

“We’re in Sapporo for the whole week covering the V2 tournament,” Mai began. “As you can see, the snow’s been coming down thick and fast, but your intrepid reporters have braved snowdrifts, storms, black ice—”

“And flash cars!” Kenji put in.

“To bring you some local colour,” she finished.

“Although it’s pretty much all white here, we’ll liven things up, and add some sparkle so you’re not left snow blind,” Kenji added.

“Ohh, snow blind, I like it,” Mai said turning away from the camera. “Keep that in.”

They filmed a while longer, building a snowman for the camera, until the cold got too much, biting through their gloves and hats. Packing up, they were trudging back to the hotel, when they heard the engine and turning the corner watched as a break down truck arrived in the car park towing a red car.

Atsumu’s car.

With a smashed driver’s seat window and a large dent in the door.

Feeling cheerier, Kenji whistled out a breath. “Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear.”

Mai gasped. “What the hell has happened to it?”

“NO, NO, NOOOOOOO!” Atsumu screamed and ran-skidded across the forecourt. “What the FUCK!”

“He wasn’t hurt when he got back to the hotel last night, so I’m guessing something went into the side where he left it,” Kenji whispered. “What a shame!”

Mai whacked him. “You’re so mean!”

“HOW CAN THIS HAPPEN?!” Atsumu continued to rant. “I left it safe. I swear I left it safe. Some fucker! What—”

“Quit whining,” Kenji shouted. “You’re insured, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the point,” Mai soothed marching across to Atsumu and linking her arm into his. “Your poor car. You _are_ insured, aren’t you?”

“Uh… yeah, sure. But…” His face had blanched as white as the snow. “Look at it! Did anyone stop? Leave a note?”

“Couldn’t see anything,” the breakdown driver replied. He shrugged. “Probably a tourist using a rented car. It’s drivable, but you’ll want to get that window fixed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” He bowed and handed over a wedge of money. “I need something over that window now.”

“We’ve got a groundsheet in the car,” Mai offered, and threw the keys at Kenji. “Why don’t you go and get it, and I’ll dump our stuff inside?”

“Sure, ‘cause I’m not cold and hungry at all!” he muttered. But he did as he’d been asked and shortly after appeared with the large plastic groundsheet.

“Thanks,” mumbled Atsumu as together they draped it over the car.

Kenji handed him a ground peg. “Use that to skewer it into the ground, if it’s not too hard. Otherwise you’ll need rocks to stop it getting blown away.”

“Too hard? I’m not stupid.”

“What?” He glanced at him, before comprehension dawned. “No, if the ground’s too hard. It’s frozen.”

“Oh… yeah, it is.” He huffed and puffed for a while. “I’ll get stones.”

“Actually, we’ve got some rope, so I’ll tie it around.”

“You’re well prepared,” Atsumu said, adding more thanks as they wrapped the rope around the top of the car.

“We’re on the road a lot. You learn from experience. Did you not think to pack at least a warning triangle?”

“Uh… I left the hazard lights on.”

“Which would’ve drained the battery. Probably crashed into you after that. Have you actually driven a car before?”

“What do you think I am? Of course I have!”

“Only, you’re so unprepared for a trip up here. Why didn’t you come up with the team?”

He gnawed on his thumb. “Wanted to check somethin’ out,” he mumbled.

“Like what?”

“Setter for the University team if you must know. He’s s’posed to be decent.”

“Scared of the competition?”

“Not in the slightest. S’good to get the lowdown on the opposition though.”

“I guess.”

“And they’ll have watched videos of us, so… what’s the difference?”

“Why did you drive though?” Kenji asked as they began to walk back to the hotel.

“Um, just felt like it. There was an … um … opportunity, so I took it.”

He was looking at the ground, his hair masking the side of the face Kenji could see, but there was something in his tone which made Kenji think Atsumu was making this up as he went along. Maybe not all of it—the part about the Setter sounded genuine—but the rest had the air of being cobbled together.

And that interested him even more. Just what was he hiding?

“Had breakfast yet?” he asked.

“No.”

“Neither have I. Mai and I had coffee before we went out but that was it. Really fancy a big bowl of porridge. Join us?”

“Sure.” He scuffed the snow with his boot. “Did ya film lots?”

“Little bits. And we made a snowman.”

“What are ya? Five?”

“Gahd, I forgot I was in the presence of an actual grown-ass adult,” he sniped back.

But for once it was good-natured with Atsumu chuckling as they stomped the snow off their boots in the lobby.

“You seem to be getting on better,” Mai remarked later that day as they ran through footage in her room.

“Not really. Lull in hostilities, that’s all,” Kenji replied. Then he relented. “I’m keeping on his good side for the sake of us and the programme.”

“That’s mature, Futa-chan. Why, what are you hoping to find out?”

“He’s hiding something. Just not sure what.”

“Maybe…” Mai lowered her voice to a sibilant hiss, “he’s on the run having committed a dastardly bank heist. Check his holdall in case he’s still got the jewels on him!”

“Holdall!”

“Huh?”

“He’s only got a holdall, so he must only have thought he’d be up here for one or two nights at the most.”

“And that’s significant why?”

“Not sure yet. Hey, do you know offhand who the setter is at Sapporo Uni?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” she replied with a smile. “And you do, too.”

“Huh?”

“Yahaba Shigeru. He’s a fourth year there.”

“So he’s still playing…”

“Sapporo are pretty good, too. Why are you interested?”

“Bargaining chip,” he reasoned. “Tell Tsum-Tsum what we know and he can give us the lowdown on the Jackals new signings.”

“He won’t tell us. He’s stubborn, you know, and he’ll be under orders not to say a word. It’s an exhibition match, so the Jackals will have no compunction in benching him if he steps out of line.”

“We’ll see.”

“Where is he now?”

“He was complaining about feeling unfit so went to the hotel gym. Guess he is missing training. Bet the Jackals are pissed about that.”

Atsumu was in the shower when he got back. He could hear him singing but instead of turning up the volume on the television, Kenji sat down with his phone and googled Yahaba.

He remembered him from school, a kid having to live up to the great Oikawa Tooru. A heavy burden and Seijou hadn’t managed to get beyond the semi finals in his last two competitions. He’d been a reasonably good setter, a little safe and predictable, but then sometimes that was what a team needed to bring balance.

He heard the door click and without looking up said, “I know that Setter you’re interested in, by the way. I’ve played against him.”

“Really? Is he a Miyagi boy?”

“Yup.” He looked up from his phone to see Atsumu clad only in a small towel round his waist, while he dried his hair with another. His chest was still wet, droplets glimmering and highlighting the taut muscularity of his chest and arms.

Blindsided, Kenji’s throat dried. He clenched his fists to stop his hands shaking.

Atsumu, clearly unaware of the reaction, came closer and leaned over his shoulder.

He smelt of fresh lavender soap.

_Shit!_

“Oh, played for Aobajousai. Same as Oikawa Tooru, right?”

“You know him?” Kenji asked, pleased his voice was at least behaving.

“Met him at training camp once. Bit of an asshole but an amazing Setter. This guy similar?”

He was smiling, not his usual manipulative smirk, but something softer. Warmer.

“You seem happier than you were before,” Kenji muttered.

“Mmm, what, the car thing? Yeah, well, at least I weren’t in it, and I figure if the storm clears soon I can get back quickly. There’s no real rush… except I need to keep training.” He turned away from Kenji and to his bed, pulling on his clothes and humming to himself.

As he moved away, Kenji let out the breath he’d been holding. Fucking hell, did Miya have to be so fricking attractive when everything else about him screamed garbage?

“You see, once I’ve worked out this shit in my head, I stop worrying about—” His phone beeped. “S’cuse me.”

Relieved to have a reason to turn away and not stare at Atsumu’s shirt clinging to his still damp body, Kenji got back to his laptop.

“NO, NO, NOOOOOOO!” The cry from Atsumu, mirrored his one from earlier when he’d seen the car, same level of panic and frustration. “NOOOO! WHY WOULD HE DO THIS?!”

Puzzled, swung round on his chair. “Why would who do what?”

“My frickin’ brother’s cut short his holiday. He’s comin’ back tomorrow, instead of next week. Why would you do that?”

“Uh, does he get bored?”

“Well, yeah, but … Dammit he _says_ he’s ill. Fuckin’ inconsiderate!”

“Wow.”

“I know right!”

“You really are a selfish prick,” Kenji laughed. “He’s ill and you’re moaning about him coming home? What’s it to you?”

“He shouldn’t be here, that’s why. He was supposed to come back late next week and then it’d all be fine and I could sort out—uh …” He trailed off.

And then Kenji twigged. “It’s not your car, is it?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Did wonder how you could afford it. It’s Osamu’s! That’s why you’re like a headless chicken. That’s why you panicked when the car was backed into, and that’s why you have no idea about the insurance. Wow, it’s his car so you won’t be insured.”

“Not true. It’s … uh … Look, I only borrowed it. It’s not like I stole it or anythin’!”

“Did you ask him?”

“Well, no, but he was out o’ the country so how could I?”

“That’s, like, the actual definition of stealing, Tsum-Tsum.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled. “No … no …. Keep cool, ‘Tsumu. Breathe, breathe.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz that’ll help. Might as well take some deep breaths while you can!”

“He’ll understand. He’ll understand. He’ll understand,” Atsumu intoned. “I’m his brother. Twin brother. We got a connection. It’ll be fine ‘Tsumu. Absolutely fine!”

“Returning a new car to him smashed up and not insured. Yeah, he’s gonna love you for that!”

The words appeared to hit Atsumu like a jump serve to the back of the head. He swayed and slumped back on his bed.

“Shit... What am I gonna do?”

“Confess straight away. It’s your only option.”

“No, no, he’ll frickin’ kill me, or at least hospitalise me and I’ll never play again.”

“We-ell, you can’t blame him,” Kenji said, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Bolt upright, now, he stared at Kenji. “I need a cover story. Help me out here!”

“No! You need to tell him the truth.”

“I could say it’s been stolen.”

“It has. By you.” Kenji replied, sniggering.

But Atsumu wasn’t listening, getting carried away with his own story. “I’ll tell him there was a report of it up here, and I bummed a lift off you guys. Yeah, that’ll work!”

“No, no, no. I’m not being a party to insurance fraud!”

Leaping to his feet, he grabbed Kenji’s arm. “You fricking’ asshole! Judgemental, frickin’, up yourself asshole! Just ‘cuz you never made it as a player, you think—”

_Oh you’ve asked for it now, you fucking prick._

He shrugged off Atsumu’s restraining arm, pulled himself up to his full height and began to speak. It was his best ‘Captain’ and ‘Scary Senpai’ voice, one he’d perfected from seeing how Aone terrified the kouhais without even trying. Low, almost monosyllabic and with the intensity of Iwaizumi Hajime facing the Datekou wall.

“You’d have to get everyone here at the hotel to lie for you,” he said softly. “And why would they do that? Why would _anyone_ cover for you?”

“Because…” he spluttered and then as the enormity of the situation opened up before him, he staggered back to the bed. “I can’t call him. I don’t know what to say. This isn’t like borrowing his jacket at all, is it?”

Shaking his head, Kenji sighed, playing the sympathetic friend card, knowing the knife he held was there to twist in one further time. “Uh… I could do it for you,” he said. “I know your brother, you know.”

“You said.”

“Pretty well, actually.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you remember I told you I’d DJ-d in Europe.”

Atsumu froze and the expression in his eyes became wary. “Mmm.”

“Well, one night, I … uh … hooked up with a guy. Kissing, that’s all, and … well … it happened to be Osamu. And, like, it was only s’posed to be a fling, like a brief holiday romance …”

“Osamu?” he gasped.

“Yeah, I said. Anyway, when I got back to Japan, a few weeks later, I … uh … looked him up and …” He let a dreamy smile drift across his face. “We’ve hooked up a few times. It’s all pretty casual, and I’ve not seen him much recently, but we’re on good terms. Look.” He thrust his phone at Atsumu showing him Osamu’s number.

“YOU’VE DONE WHAT?”

“Is there a problem?” Kenji asked innocently, and trying not to laugh at Atsumu’s bulging eyes.

“He never said a thing. The lyin’, cheatin’, schemin’ motherfu—”

“Hey, that’s your brother you’re talking about. The one whose car you stole!” Kenji replied with mock indignation.

“But it wasn’t… he didn’t … he fuckin’ KNEW and…”

“Knew what?”

“He… just … knew, all right!” He shook his head. “Don’t ask me anymore. He’s a bastard git of a brother and I don’t care about his rotten car and his rotten—”

“Knew it wasn’t him, you mean.”

“Whaaaaat?”

“Knew he’d never kissed me. Knew we’d never met. And knew the person I must have hooked up with that night was not ‘Samu as he claimed to be, but Miya Atsumu, his twin brother!”

“I—”

“ _You_ lied to me. In Spain and even now we’re back in Japan, you’re still denying everything. Oh …” His face cleared. “Unless there’s a Miya triplet we’ve all been unaware of before now.”

“Okay, okay so it was me!” he yelped. “I didn’t expect you to come searching for me. Hell, I had no fricking idea who you were then.” He swallowed. “Did you really come looking for me?”

“I looked for ‘Samu, yeah. Found him in his first onigiri place, walked in, said ‘hi, and …”

“What?”

“Was greeted with a blank smile and absolutely no recognition whatsoever. I didn’t think you’d been so drunk you’d forgotten.” He twisted away. “So then I realised you didn’t want to know, and you’d given me the fake name. Thing was, that night I first saw you, I was pretty sure it was Miya Atsumu I was staring at. I recognised you, obviously, but you had your hat over your hair, and you insisted you were Osamu, so I figured I was mistaken.”

“Why _do_ you have my brother’s number?”

“Sponsorship deal. We plug him, he plugs us. Mai’s idea, actually.”

“And the pair of you haven’t … actually …”

He shook his head, wondering why that was important, but it appeared it was and Atsumu’s breathing became more regular. He touched Kenji on the arm. “Borrowin’ a jacket is one thing. Movin’ in on your brother’s … uh … hook-ups is another.”

“And borrowing his car?”

“Somewhere in between.” He sniffed and walked over to the window, staring out at the car they’d successfully wrapped in the groundsheet. “I need to call him, don’t I?”

“Yup.” Picking up a jacket, he closed his laptop and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You were a good player back then,” Atsumu said.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“I watched your final ‘gainst Karasuno. Managed t’ get a stream of it. And wow, you were strong. Crazy Setter, though. Woulda liked the chance to go up against your Iron Wall.” He half turned and gave a small smile. “Woulda also liked the chance to block your shots. And you had one heck of a serve, Futakuchi Kenji.”

“Thank you.” He opened the door but hesitated before leaving. “I’d have loved that chance too, you know. Or spiking that toss of yours.”

He sat in the lounge area flicking through a sports magazine and watched the weather outside the window. The unflinching snowman he’d built with Mai, stared back at him, its stone eyes boring through the pane of glass.

_Imagine a wall of them,_ he thought, tilting his head to the side. _I’ll make a huge one, bigger than Takanobu and we could take on all comers._

He smiled, imagining a Koganegawa snowman bedecked with sticky up leaves for hair and a dumb stick for a mouth.

“Something amusing you?” Mai asked. She’d brought a tray of coffee and biscuits, setting it onto the table, then slipped into the seat next to him.

“The snowman, that’s all. Mmm, nice coffee.”

“Where’s the bane of your life?”

“Huh?”

She stared at him. “Tsum-Tsum.”

“Talking to his brother.”

“Ah, facing the music, right?”

“What do you mean? How did you know?”

“That the car wasn’t Atsumu’s?”

He nodded, amazed again at her perceptiveness.

“The only way Miya Atsumu would have been able to afford a car like that was if he’d got a new sponsorship deal. And he hasn’t.”

“And you know that how?”

“I asked around.” She smiled. “Specifically I asked Shirofuku-san and she’d heard nothing.”

“Bokuto’s agent?”

“Mmm, that’s the one. She handles Atsumu, too.”

He drank half his coffee, preferring it black today, and watched the snowman again. “We should do a segment on things to do in the snow,” he murmured.

“Winter sports?”

“No, what you do if you can’t play your normal sport.” He grinned. “Snow Volleyball could be fun.”

She shivered. “Freezing, though.”

“Hot chocolate during every time out,” he suggested. “Hot water bottles taped to stomachs, and gloves instead of tape round fingers.”

“You get dressed up, and I’ll film it,” she laughed.

He didn’t see Atsumu until before dinner. Returning to the room to get ready, Atsumu was doing some kind of workout while watching television but he stopped when Kenji entered.

“How did it go with your brother?”

“Not too bad.” He gave a grin. “He can’t stay mad at me forever. At least he can’t stay fightingly mad with me forever. The cold murderous rage mode has cooled the lava like anger – that was somethin’ Granny used to say about him. Whereas I jus’ have the murderous rage and then utter love for my twin,” Atsumu said and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Really? He’s not about to turn up here and disembowel you then?”

“Nope. Turns out he took out insurance for me anyway.”

“Huh?”

“Probably on the advice of his business partner. ‘Tarou’s smart, you see.”

“So he knew you’d steal the car.”

“Borrow, Futakuchi, borrow. There’s a difference. Anyway, he yelled a lot. Then yelled some more, then when he hung up, he caps locked me loads of angry messages. Then ‘Tarou texted me and the deal is I’ll get the car repaired, pay the policy excess and we’re cool.”

“You’re cool? Honestly?”

“I’ve promised to ask him again if I want to drive it and do some shifts on the stall for publicity.”

“All worked out well then.”

“Yup. It always does.” He started to whistle again, then paused. “Hey, do you mind if I join you and Nametsu-san for dinner again? Wouldn’t mind picking your brains over Yahaba.”

He’d said ‘sure’ without thinking about it, then wondered if it would have made any difference if he’d refused. Atsumu breezed through life and when he hit a wall he bulldozed through it.

Pulling a shirt out of the wardrobe, he scowled at one of the empty hangers. _Didn’t I have…_

“Hey, asshole, have you stolen one of my shirts?”

“I was going to ask, but you didn’t come back,” Atsumu replied. “Look, I’m not wearing it yet, I just held it up to see if it suited me.”

“It’s my turquoise one!”

“Yeah, you got great taste. Look, I haven’t got anything else, so … _please?_ ”

“I guess. You’re paying for laundry if you spill anything down it though.”

He grinned widely. “Deal!”

It went silent again. Kenji took himself off to the bathroom, shaved and showered, and returned to find Atsumu hadn’t joined Mai yet, but was standing looking awkward by the window.

“Uh… I wanted to say about … uh … Spain.”

“Best to forget it, don’t you think?” Kenji jumped in. “One off, too much sun, sea and sangria type thing.”

“Oh… yeah, just what I was going to say. But … um … and sorry to ask this now but I don’t want to in front of Nametsu, but … was me lyin’ to you the reason you’re so mean to me in your commentary.”

“I take the piss out of everyone!” he protested, feeling ruffled.

“Yeah, sure, but you do kinda pick on me—even Sakusa thinks so, and he don’t think about much except germs and stuff— and look, if it’s cuz of Spain, then, yeah, I shoulda given you my real name, but I didn’t think I’d see you again, and I honestly hadn’t connected a DJ playin’ a cool set with a guy I’d once seen on a TV stream.” He held out his hand. “No offence, I hope?”

He hesitated, but then his better nature took over and Kenji accepted Atsumu’s handshake. “Maybe I was … uh … biased. I’ll tone it down.”

They ate a comradely meal together. Atsumu talked a little about the team and volleyball, and although Mai probed him for answers, she didn’t push it. Kenji joined in with some anecdotes and questions about Inarizaki. It was halfway through when he began to feel restless and ached to get up and walk for a bit.

“Is it your back?” Mai asked.

“Mm,” he replied, a little curtly. “That car ride is catching up on me.”

Atsumu stared at him. “You have a back problem?”

“Yeah, it’s minor, but creeps up on me sometimes. My physio’s given me exercises to do so most of the time I’m fine.”

“You might know the therapist,” Mai said and gave him a smile. “Old Captain of Karasuno?”

“Which one? I played against two of ‘em.”

“The one you beat,” Mai answered. “He’s a decent guy.”

Atsumu listened tilting his head to the side, nodded as he remembered, and then focused on Kenji.

“Is that why you don’t play? Were you injured out, ‘cuz you were a useful player and—”

“Nope,” he cut in. “It’s like you said, some of us don’t have the same fire.”

Atsumu couldn’t seem to compute, but then he was a top class player, who’d worked that little bit extra hard to get where he was, and even now on a few days break, he’d been keeping up his fitness.

“I watch the top players,” Kenji murmured, “and they dazzle me. The pace is extraordinary. The skill and the angles of the spikes leave me breathless with their speed and ferocity.”

“Not something you had a problem with,” Mai put in softly.

“But it was very much a team at Datekou. We were known for our blocks and defence and … going it alone was … well, I considered it and looked up trials and stuff, but there were other things I wanted to do and see and I liked music, always did, then Mai was working abroad and it looked fun, you know. No pressure, no mountain I had to climb, so I left to seek adventure.”

“Oh … right.” He looked perplexed.

“Whereas I’m guessing you get your adventure every time you step on court,” Kenji said. “And that’s the difference.”

“And that’s eloquent!” Mai said. “We have to use it!” Then she nudged Atsumu. “Hey, as you two are on talking rather that screaming terms, will you come and record something with us?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not givin’ away any secrets. And I’m not mentioning the car. But can I plug Osamu?”

“We probably will anyway, so why not? Dress up warm.”

“Yes,” Kenji said, rolling his eyes when Atsumu glanced at him. “I have something you can borrow.”

He noticed Mai’s raised eyebrows and her attempt to formulate some words, but cut her off by summoning the waiter over to get another beer. The subject changed to a TV show Atsumu liked which Bokuto had got him into, and his brother’s love of manga. And Kenji sat back, chipping in even less as his mind flipped between turmoil and resignation.

He told himself he had no regrets about not pursuing volleyball, and most of the time he didn’t, but there was always that catch of breath, that scent of excitement when they watched the teams troop onto court and waited for the first whistle. He’d always assumed it would disappear once you turned professional, that it would become mundane to those playing for a living, yet Atsumu still seemed as in love with the game and as committed despite his three years as a pro.

“And so, let me introduce our special guest, who’s stranded in the snow with us … drum roll please, Futakuchi …” Mai intoned, grinning when he began to tap on a snow covered table with his gloved hands. “It’s … MIYA ATSUMU!”

“Hey there,” he replied with a smile. “How you guys doing today?”

“Cold,” Kenji said, and nudged him to look at the camera. “So, Tsum-Ts...Uh…Atsumu, what brings you to Sapporo?”

“We’ve got a game comin’ up against the University, and I wanted to check out the team.”

“Worried?”

“Me?” He puffed out his chest, looking just like the arrogant fucker he always was, but then he chuckled. “Naw, more impressed. You played against their Setter didn’t ya, Futakuchi?”

“Back in the day,” Kenji croaked and mimed walking with a stick.

“Want to give me the lowdown on him?”

“If you give us some details on the Jackals’ new signings,” Mai interrupted, “then we’ll tell you everything we know about Yahaba Shigeru.”

“Aw, guys that’s not fair! I’ll have to go into the game blind.” He pulled a mopey face, trudging away while saying, “Guess I’ll make the hot chocolate then.”

“Extra cream on mine,” Kenji yelled, then turned back to the camera. “So, this cold weather got Mai and I thinking about what you do when your game’s cancelled. Course, if it’s indoors like volleyball then the weather doesn’t affect the game, but what about football, or rugby or beach volleyball? Could you still play?”

“On ice skates,” Mai chipped in. “Wearing thick gloves.”

Kenji jazz-handed to the camera. “Mittens. Great for blockers.”

“AWFUL FOR SETTERS THOUGH!” came Atsumu’s voice off camera. “Hey, you wanted me to toss for you, didn’t ya?”

He burst into laughter and that should have warned Kenji of his impending doom, but too surprised by the intervention, he missed the large snowball until it landed, pinpoint perfectly on his head.

“You asshole!”

“Not on camera!” Mai shouted, but she was giggling too, especially as Atsumu had lined up another volleyball-sized snowball and was sending it their way. “Come on, Kenji, show the scrub what Datekou can do? Spike that snowball!”

With more time to think, Kenji lifted his hands, flattened them as if about to perform a soft block, and then pushed rather than hit the snowball. The impact left the snowball intact and then he launched it through the air, arcing towards Atsumu, who, caught up in the fake game, leapt up to toss again, only for the snow to disintegrate over his face and send him stumbling back.

“GET HIM!” Kenji yelled, and picked up handfuls of snow as he ran towards him.

With Atsumu shrieking on the ground, Kenji sat astride him, him, pummelling him with snowy mittens as he stuffed more snow down his jacket.

“NO, NO, STOP! THAT’S COLD! STOP IT FUTA-CHAN!”

“Tell us about your new signings,” Kenji demanded.

“No. I can’t I—” He stopped to spit out a mouthful of snow. “STOP THAT!”

“Tell us, or we encase you in ice!” Mai said approaching menacingly with a pile of snowballs.

“Guys, guys, take pity on me,” implored Atsumu. “I—”

But as Mai dropped one snowball in his face, and Kenji loosened his hold, he reached up with his hands, pushed Kenji to the side and then flipped him onto his back.

“Revenge is mine!”

“No, I have Mai on my side.”

“Wanna bet,” she replied and began to pelt them both with snowballs. “This is too much fun!”

They rolled over to escape her bombardment. Laughter tore at Kenji’s chest, as he writhed away from the snow and the cold and straight into Atsumu’s body. And then he screamed as Atsumu dug his snow encrusted gloves into his jacket and under his shirt, ice encountering his abs and chest.

“YOU FUCKER!” He screamed, but in trying to wrench himself free, he only succeeded in forcing Atsumu flat of top of him

“Okay, I’m turning the camera off,” Mai cried. “I can tell the bleep machine will be working overdrive.” Then she stopped, staring at the pair of them. “Or maybe not.”

Atsumu stared down at him, his breath coming out in short white puffs, his chest heaving up and down against Kenji’s. It was a different time, a different place and certainly a vastly different temperature, but suddenly Kenji careened back to the hot, sultry nights in Spain and one night in particular where the thrum of the music and the hum of the city kept up with the constant beat of their hearts.

And he wasn’t sure who moved in first, only that he heard Mai squeak out a ‘yikes!’ before Atsumu’s lips were touching his, and Kenji’s palms were cupping Atsumu’s face.

“Oh… kay and I’m leaving you to it, but … uh … remember it’s cold, guys,” Mai cooed.

“What are we doing?” Kenji muttered, half coming to his senses.

“Uh, ain’t it obvious?” Atsumu mumbled.

“She’s right, though.”

“Huh?”

“It’s cold. And neither of us want frostbite.”

“And neither of us have moved,” Atsumu put in, and grinned.

_Might break the spell,_ Kenji thought wistfully. He extricated himself, but sat on the ground and tugged on Atsumu’s sleeve. “This isn’t Spain. We know each other now.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s kinda nice now it’s in the open.” Atsumu rubbed his nose against Kenji’s. “Hey, do you wanna know who our latest signing is?”

He shook his head. “Some kid I won’t have heard of. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask you to compromise your position.”

“You’ve heard of one of ‘em,” Atsumu assured him, and smiled. “And I’ll tell you, just so you have the background, and ‘cause I know you won’t go blabbing before the Jackals have made the announcement.”

“How do you know I won’t tell the world?”

Atsumu shrugged. “I trust you.”

“Go on then,” Kenji said, trying to sound bored, but he could sense Atsumu’s excitement and his own began to bubble.

“Hinata Shouyou,” he whispered. “Just returned from beach volleyball in Brazil.”

“You … you’re joking.”

But he knew he wasn’t. He knew this was the truth. There was something in Atsumu’s tone that sang out the sincerity, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered Koganegawa telling him Hinata had returned to Japan.

“You’re going to set for him?” He sat bolt upright, then tipped his face to the sky. “Oh this is GLORIOUS!”

“And you’ll—”

“Keep it secret, yeah, I promise,” he replied and then got to his feet, pulling Atsumu up with him. They bumped heads softly, and Kenji gazed into Atsumu’s wide brown eyes, watching as his lips pouted for another kiss. “We won’t be able to chalk this down as one of those things,” Kenji replied, but he smiled as Atsumu nuzzled his ear.

“What if we had a lot of those things?” Atsumu asked. “And we strung ‘em together to make … I dunno … a bigger thing.”

“Hu-uuh?”

“We connect, don’t you think?” Atsumu husked then cleared his throat. “In volleyball it’s the connections that are important, right and …I don’t get that many off court.”

“We drive each other nuts,” Kenji despaired.

“Well, yeah, but ain’t that half the fun?” His hand hooked into Kenji’s arm. “And look, I’m not saying this just so you stop saying rotten things about me on court.”

A chuckle turned into a sigh, he looked around at the snow covered garden, and then slumped back, resting his head on Atsumu’s shoulder.

“It’s a defence mechanism,” Kenji admitted.

“Huh?”

“I watch you on court, and it’s like being here in the snow, stare too long and I’m snow-blind. Your play mesmerises me, Miya Atsumu, so I get in with the digs first, and before I know it, you’re snarling back and … We’d be a mess together.”

“Or an unbeatable team,” Atsumu replied, and twisted his face so his lips touched Kenji’s temple. “How ‘bout it?”

_How about it?_ What a question. And experience had taught him defence was always the best option. And yet… instinct now was hammering at him to face down the blocks, and not build them.

“Yeah,” he whispered and leaned in for another snow-filled kiss. “How ‘bout it?”

**Author's Note:**

> First time I've written this ship and I can see it's a rabbit hole I'll gladly fall into. I blame you ENTIRELY, Mandy.


End file.
